"Yes, it is strange."
"I mean to look for it myself. Is there any way to get down here?"
"Yes, but it is a long way."
"Never mind that. We will try it. I've got a good pair of legs, and I can hold out if you can."
"Very well, monsieur."
They accordingly descended and explored the chasm beneath, climbing part way up, looking everywhere for the remains of our hero, but, as we know, there was a very good reason why they were not found. Frank was, at that very moment, eating a hearty breakfast with his friends, the Grosvenors, in Coblentz, preparatory to crossing the river and ascending the heights of Ehrenbreitstein. He little dreamed that his Yankee friend was at that moment looking for his body. Had Mr. Tarbox been able to see the said body, he would have been relieved from all apprehensions.
After continuing his search for the greater part of a day, Mr. Tarbox was obliged to give it up. Though possessed of a considerable share of physical strength, obtained by working on his father's farm from the age of ten, he was obliged to own that he was about "tuckered out." He was surprised to find that the guide appeared comparatively fresh.
"Ain't you tired, Baptiste?" he asked.
"Non, monsieur."
"Well, that's strange. You're a little feller, compared with me. I could swaller you almost, and I'm as tired as a dog—clean tuckered out."